The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

The Quest

Isaiah 8:23-9:3; 1 Corinthians 1:10-13,17; Matthew 4:12-23 

His name was Alonso Quijana . . . a country squire, no longer young. Bony and hollow-faced . . . eyes that burn with the fire of inner vision. Being retired, he has much time for books. He studies them from morn to night, and often through the night as well. And all he reads oppresses him . . . fills him with indignation at man’s murderous ways toward man. He broods . . . and broods . . . and broods – and finally from so much brooding – his brains dry up! He lays down the melancholy burden of sanity and conceives the strangest project ever imagined . . . to become a knight-errant three hundred years after the age of chivalry and sally forth into the world to right all wrongs. No longer will he be plain Alonso Quijana . . . but a dauntless knight known as – Don Quixote the Man of La Mancha!!!

And so, he leaves his home, and invites a peasant named Sancho to become his squire and assist him as he begins his quest to restore goodness, truth, and grace to a fallen world; to follow the star of hope with unfailing determination; to seek a new and more promising world of justice, peace, and love. And as he does, his vision of reality changes: to his eyes, a windmill is a giant ogre with which to do battle, a country inn is a castle, and a barber’s shaving basin is a golden helmet that when worn by one of noble heart renders him invulnerable to all wounds. And, how he sees people, also changes: in a common prostitute he sees beauty, purity, the woman each man holds within his heart.

One night, as he keeps vigil beneath the stars, he articulates the creed, the principles, by which he tries to live:

“Call nothing thy own except thy soul.
Love not what thou art, but only what thou may become.
Do not pursue pleasure, for thou may have the misfortune to overtake it.
Look always forward; in last year’s nest there are no birds this year.
Be just to all men. Be courteous to all women.
Live always in the vision of that one for whom great things are done.”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus too embarks on a quest. He calls the first four of the twelve men who will assist him in bringing the good news of salvation and the challenge of personal transformation to the towns and villages in Galilee and Judea. And like Don Quixote, Jesus has a vision of the world that is different from others. To him, the greatest is the one who serves, and characteristics, like poverty of spirit, compassion, humility, moral integrity, forgiveness, peacefulness, and tolerance in the face of persecution, are not signs of weakness, but values that bring true happiness. And he too sees beyond appearances and beyond the social limitations that his society placed on those who were poor, or sick, or sinners, or tax collectors, and saw their worth in the eyes of God and that they too had been called to participate in his father’s kingdom.

And as he travelled throughout Israel, at different times and in different places, he too beautifully articulated his creed, the values that he accepted for himself, the values that he challenged those who wished to follow him to accept as their own:

“Love God with all your whole heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.
Love your enemies.
Do good to those who hate you.
Bless those who curse you.
Pray for those who mistreat you.
Give to everyone who asks of you.
From the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.
Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

The invitation that Jesus extends in today’s gospel to Peter, Andrew, James and John is not just to follow him. The invitation wasn’t just to self - improvement. The invitation wasn’t just to an opportunity for personal growth. The invitation wasn’t just to assure a place in heaven for themselves. As important as all these things are, the invitation which Jesus gave ran far deeper.

It is an invitation to become part of a great quest. It is an invitation to become co - workers with Christ in his continuing ministry to those who are lost, who are infirm, who need hope. It was an invitation to play part in bringing God’s mission to light in the world. It was an invitation to become a part of what God is doing in our world. It is an invitation to become a partner with God in transforming the world. It is an invitation for them to become church.

Often times, we ask of our faith the same question we ask of anything else in our lives: “What’s in it for me?” This question is often the litmus test that we use to judge whether or not something is worthy of our attention and involvement. This question really shouldn’t be a concern when it comes to living out our faith. Following Christ and being a member of the Church is not about us and our personal comfort and convenience and needs. It is about Jesus and his quest. It is about finding our own place it Jesus’ quest, his mission, his ministry. It is about what we can do for Christ. It is about giving God our prayers, our gifts, our presence, and our service. It is about taking our place in the band of his followers and living lives that make a difference in the world. Following Christ is about leaving our old, self-serving lives behind and entering into a life of service to God and availability to the mission of God.

Jesus came into Galilee preaching the good news that the kingdom of God was at hand. He asks us to go out into our world and do exactly the same thing. Jesus calls us to a life of conviction, to a life of urgency, to a life of reaching out with his message of love and forgiveness to all the people we encounter in life. He calls us to reach out to the lonely, to the hungry, to the sick, to the ones in prison, to the disabled, to the forsaken, to the needy, to all of those people who need to hear that someone indeed does loves them and that someone is Jesus Christ.

It is the noblest and holiest of all quests. Not that of the Man of La Mancha, whose dedication to his quest led him to fight windmills. It is that of the Man of Galilee, whose wholehearted dedication to his quest led him to the cross.

The Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Here Am I, Lord. I Come to Do Your Will

Isaiah 49:3, 5-6; 1 Corinthians 1:1-3; John 1: 29-34 

Let me ask you a question: Are you a person of your word? In other words, when you say something, do you mean it? Some people don’t. Or in some situations, some people don’t. Sometimes some people say things only because they feel they are advantageous to themselves: to get the job, to clinch the deal, to endear themselves to someone for their own benefit. Sometimes some feel a sense of obligation to say what they think people want to hear. Or sometimes people feel put on the spot. They say the safe thing . . . the politically correct thing . . . the thing that is popular opinion, the thing everyone else is saying, the thing everyone else is believing. And sometimes some people say something and they really don’t understand what they are saying. What about you? Do you mean what you say?

The reason I ask is that just a few minutes ago we all said something and I wonder if we meant it. Or did we really understand the implications of what we were saying? As a matter of fact, what we said, we didn’t just say once; we repeated it four times. And sadly, as I look around, I can tell some of you don’t know what the heck I’m talking about!

Just a few minutes ago four times in our responsorial psalm we said, “Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will.” Ah! Remember now? “Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will.” Were you paying attention? Did you mean it? Did you understand the implications of what you were saying?

“Here am I, Lord.” Are you here? Or are you really somewhere else? Sure, you’re physically here, but is your mind somewhere else? Or are you here, but here isn’t really where you want to be?

“Lord, I come to do your will.” Have you really? Have you come here this evening to find out what God’s will is – for the world . . . for the Church . . . for you, yourself? Have you come here this evening because you truly desire to do His will and you realize that to do it, you need strength, strength that comes from the Bread of Life and the Cup of Eternal Salvation, the Eucharist, or are you here merely out of obligation?

“Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will.” Did we understand that those words that we said (or sang) four times was our affirmation, our consent to what immediately preceded it? Did we understand that through those words, we were entering into a sacred covenant with God?

Well what exactly did we get ourselves into? In the first verse of Psalm 40, through our response, we committed ourselves to be people of faith. “I have waited, waited for the LORD, and he stooped toward me and heard my cry. And he put a new song into my mouth, a hymn to our God.” Through these words we pledged to listen, to discern, to wait. Sometimes it’s hard to “wait for the Lord.” But through faith we know that God is never blind to our tears, never deaf to our prayers, never silent to our pain. He sees. He hears. And he will deliver. Faith tells us that God has perfect timing . . . never early, never late. But when we finally see His plan, we realize it’s been worth the wait. Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will!

The second and third verse are interrelated, and through our response to both of them, we’ve committed ourselves to be people devoted to God’s Word – hearing it, obeying it, acting upon it. “Sacrifice or offering you wished not, but ears open to obedience you gave me. Holocausts or sin-offerings you sought not . . . In the written scroll it is prescribed for me, to do your will, O my God, that is my delight, and your law is within my heart.” Sometimes we get caught up with externals. God doesn’t. Sometimes we think that our prayers have to be eloquent, our liturgy solemn, and our sacrifices extravagant. But God simply wants our obedience – an obedience that’s that comes as a natural and necessary extension of our love for Him. As I told my students thousands of times, and as I’ve also said here before, Christianity isn’t just something we do on Sunday mornings (or Saturday evenings). Christianity is a way of life. It’s a lived experience. What good is it if we hear the Word of God every Sunday and then not seek to live it every other day of the week? And we shouldn’t just depend on the Sunday readings to be our nourishment. We need to get into the Word of God ourselves. Read it, meditate on it, memorize it, recite it, repeat it, devour it, obey it, and believe it. No Sunday homily can ever substitute for that. Here’s the ultimate question we need to ask ourselves: Are the biblical phrases lines that we merely recite or the script that we live? Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will.

And then our last verse. Did we understand that the refrain we said for the fourth time was a commitment to service? “I announced your justice in the vast assembly; I did not restrain my lips, as you, O LORD, know.” God is a just God. And for a just God, there are no favorites. He loves all and desires that all be treated rightly and fairly, and their needs taken care of. God commissions you as an agent of divinity. It wouldn’t make sense for an orchestra to play silently, or for an artist to paint invisibly. Neither does it make sense to be a disciple of Christ secretly. Every member of the church is called to ministry, gifted for ministry, authorized for ministry, commanded to minister, saved for ministry, accountable for ministry, needed for ministry, and rewarded for ministry. But the problem is most people want to serve God, but only in an advisory capacity. As Christians, we’re called to be counter-cultural . . . to shift our focus from what’s in it for me - to - how may I serve? We have to stop being go-getters and learn to become go-givers. If you can’t do great things for God then do small things in a great way. God’s greatest works take place without our doing anything spectacular. They are the side effects of doing the ordinary things that we’re supposed to be doing. We are on this planet for one purpose only; to give our gift away. Here am I, Lord. I come to do your will.

I’d like, if I may, to address the teenagers who are here tonight. Some of you might not think that any of this applies to you. A lot of you may feel, “Leave me alone! I’m young! I don’t want responsibility . . . I don’t want commitment . . . All I want is to have a good time.” Others may feel, “Yeah this religion thing is important, but not now. Maybe when I’m 30 or 40 or 50 it will be. After all, how much can God expect of me now anyway? I’m just a teenager?” But you couldn’t be more wrong.

Did you realize that the Blessed Mother was probably no older than fourteen when God asked her to be the mother of his Son? Mary was a teenager – just like you. Yet he asked her to do something that had eternal consequences. And despite her age, this teenager said “yes” to God.

We celebrated Christmas less than a month ago. And probably in pictures on Christmas cards or the figures in your manger at home, the shepherds were depicted as being old men. Well, I’ve just recently read that actually, the shepherds that kept the night watch were teenagers, probably no older than fifteen or sixteen. Just think – the very first people that God chose to announce the birth of his Son to were teenagers, just like you.

And did you realize that most of the Apostles were teenagers? The first people that Jesus extended the invitation to come follow him, the very people he entrusted with perpetuating his ministry after he died, rose from the dead, and ascended into heaven were teenagers, just like you. If he could call and entrust teenagers then, don’t you think he still does that today?

If you don’t get what I’ve been saying, let me put it another way:

To be a Survivor in this Amazing Race
with a Need for Speed, you need God's grace.
And if you're Desperate like Housewives
watching Days of our Lives,
you can't cope without hope
and that's not on a soap.

If you're looking to Oprah or Dr. Phil,
you can shop non-stop or pop a pill
but the pain won't heal and the void won't fill
'til you love the One that hung on a hill.

Kickin’ back in your La-Z-Boy easy chair
watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
Nah! You ain’t find it there.
No American Idol or Council Tribal
has the final answer that will satisfy you.
CSI aint got a clue.
SVU don't know what to do.

Not the ER, the OC,
nothing on a CD, TV, DVD, or MP3
can save you and me.
CNN's got no Good News.
Here's the headline, "YOU GOTTA CHOOSE."

You can be a Heavy Hitter or Wheel of Fortune winner,
a Fox News spinner or flat out sinner,
but you better check this life that you're livin'
and make sure your sins are forgiven.

I bet you 50 Cents: Elvis done, came and went.
And eventually every Black-Eyed Pea, Gwen Stefani,
P-Diddy and Britney,
every wanna-be on MTV
with their Icy Bling,
every Dixie Chick that sings,
they all gonna see the King of Kings.

I don't care if you're J Lo, Leno, or Bono.
One thing you gotta know,
Someday you're gonna die bro.
Then where are you gonna go?
So the next time you’re impressed with GaGa, Cyrus, or that Bieber kid,
look to the cross and see what Jesus did.

Hey, I'm not talking some punk junk that is irrelevant
like your Grandma's church from way back when.
It's not some preacher feature on TBN
that you need to be liking or listenin’.
The real Superstar is Jesus Christ.
He's the Way, He's the Truth, He’s the Life.
One day he's going to split the sky.
He’s the Brightest Light. He’s the Highest High.

What I came to say and what I'm telling you
is don't buy that stupid stuff they be selling you.
It's all designed to fill your head
and waste your space until you're dead.
Here's the bottom line in my rhyme:
Give your life to God while there’s still time.

So here you are in church today, you only come to chill?
You stand before the King of Kings; you’ve come to do His will.

The Solemnity of the Baptism of the Lord (Cycle A)

Jesus’ Baptism and Ours

Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7; Acts 10: 34-38; Matthew 3: 13-17

The decorations are all down now. Our living rooms and dens are back to normal. The Christmas tree is at the curb, and the lights that once outlined our houses are still up, but are no longer lit. Even the department stores don’t advertise their sales as “After Christmas” any longer. And now Valentines Day Cards and candy occupy the spaces in Hallmark left vacant by Christmas merchandise. Christmas has come and gone and we have begun to put our lives back into its normal routine. But whereas Christmas is just a memory to much of the rest of the world, we in the Church hold out for one more week. Today we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord and liturgically it is both the last Sunday of the Christmas season and the first Sunday of Ordinary Time. For the first time in several weeks, our Gospel does not focus on the Child in the Bethlehem manger, but rather on the adult redeemer, becoming public with his baptism by John. The good news spoken by the angels continues to unfold. The Emmanuel story is yet to be fully revealed. And we now meditate on the wonder of Jesus who reveals the great love for God for us not only in his Christmas birth but in his parables and miracles and in his Easter death and resurrection.

In today’s Gospel from Matthew, Jesus comes to the River Jordan to be baptized by John. This seems strange in itself -- what need would there be for Jesus, the sinless one, to be ritually cleansed? And, in fact, John the Baptist tried to argue just that point with him -- but to no avail. When the Son of God became incarnate, became flesh, became one of us, he held back nothing. His identification with humankind was complete.

And so Jesus came on that day and entered the water. And the Gospel says that the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased." These supernatural events that coincide with Jesus’ baptism are rich in symbolism. The opening of the heavens clears the way for God to re-establish contact with his chosen people. Thus, the heavens are pictured as being opened from the other side, as God eagerly responds to the presence of his appointed Messiah.

"The Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him" is the signal for a new creation. This same "Spirit" had hovered over the deep in the original creation (Genesis 1:2); and a new beginning was signaled again to Noah when the dove returned to him after the flood (Genesis 8:11). This means that the coming of Jesus also represents a new beginning; in fact, history will never be the same again.

The nature of the new creation is revealed in the final climactic words from heaven. When Jesus is called God's "beloved Son," it means that this new world will be filled with the love of God, radiating from his Son, who will become, in a sense, the very embodiment of God's love.

Down through the centuries, the Church has baptized children and baptized adults. Baptisms have taken place on riverbanks, in churches, in hospitals, in kitchen sinks, and in swimming pools. Some happen at the beginning of life and some on deathbeds. Baptisms may be surrounded by great pomp and circumstance, or with great secrecy in places where to be a Christian is a punishable offense. We pour, we sprinkle, we immerse, we dunk. The details are not important; what is important is that we baptize with water in the name of the Trinity. There is a very rich symbolism about it all: the cleansing water of baptism; the Paschal candle representing the light of Christ; the oil of chrism that marks the newly baptized as Christ's own forever. A Baptism, whether of a child or an adult, is always a happy occasion -- not only for the person being baptized and their family, but for the whole Body of Christ.

But the sad thing is that the contact of modern Christians with their baptism is often little more than a report given by others about an event of their long-forgotten infancy. If this is so, then we need to re-discover in our adult lives the meaning of this critical moment. We need to "claim" our baptism and make it operative in our adult experience. When we do so, we must realize that the experience of Jesus belongs to us also and that today’s celebration of the Baptism of the Lord is intended to do more than recall a religious event or a biographical element in the life of Jesus, but to speak of our own experience, as well.

At our baptism, God's heavenly realm is opened to us. And the creative Spirit calls us to a new kind of life. The possibilities of this new existence are contained in the words of the Father, "You are my beloved Son," now understood as spoken to us also. For in our baptism we become children of God and thus join Jesus in the family of God. Through our Baptism we have been reborn into newness of life - the very life of God. It speaks of our supernatural life - the divine life - a far superior and most precious gift of God to us than our natural life.

One of the favorite stories the tour guides love to tell the pilgrims in the Holy Land is about the Sea of Galilee and Dead Sea. The likeness between the water in the Sea of Galilee and the water in the Dead Sea is that, "it comes from the same source." But there is a big difference: the water in the Sea of Galilee is vibrant and full of life; it is constantly flowing. It is here that Jesus calmed the winds and the waves and walked on the waters. It is here that Jesus told Peter to cast out his nets, and the catch was so great that the nets were to the point of tearing. After leaving the Sea of Galilee, the water descends down the river Jordan where Jesus was baptized and eventually empties into the Dead Sea. Here the water loses its movement and stops flowing. Here the water finds its dead end. It is full of salt deposits. There is no life and no fish in the Dead Sea. That is why it is called the Dead Sea.

Applied to our Baptism, the analogy is quite clear. The likeness between our natural life and supernatural life is that, "it comes from the same source - God." God is the giver of all life human and divine. But there is a big difference: It is the supernatural life - the divine life - that we received in Baptism that makes our natural life vibrant and full of joy like the water in the Sea of Galilee. It keeps us growing in our relationship with God and with one another and helps us fulfill our purpose on earth. It is this supernatural life that we received in Baptism that keeps us moving towards our eternal happiness.

On the other hand, without this supernatural life, our natural life becomes like the water in the Dead Sea - it loses its purpose and its eternal goal. The person who neglects to nourish his or her supernatural life eventually turns into emptiness. It loses his or her spiritual joy and life becomes only a momentary pleasure. Such a person eventually becomes one of the living dead.

My friends, it is not enough to be baptized and claim to be followers of Jesus. We must allow the waters of Baptism keep flowing, keep moving, like the water in the Sea of Galilee, purifying us from our sinful behavior, from all of our sinful actions. We must continually keep changing and transforming our lives in the ways Jesus himself taught us and showed us. The moment we stop growing in our relationship with God, we become like the water in the Dead Sea. The saying has it, "He who stops being better, stops being good." Let us renew our Baptismal promises today and resolve to live lives worthy of God's children.

The Epiphany of the Lord (Cycles A/B/C)

Stars

Isaiah 60: 1-6; Ephesians 3: 2-3A, 5-6; Matthew 2: 1-12) 

One of the things I love about Christmas stories, whether they’re the ones from the Gospel, or other traditional stories told over time, is that each tells of a journey that leads to the manger. There in that cold stable full of animals is Jesus, come into the world. And all around him is the world in miniature. Creation is there in the animals and the angels and the stars; all people are there in the rich Magi and the poor shepherds, the Jews and the Gentiles. In this backwater town, behind the inn where no one would go on a cold night, God has come.

I love Christmas stories, and I particularly love the story we hear in today’s gospel, the story of the Magi. The gospel presents how, in the persons of the Magi, the rest of the world can see the star and come to the manger. The story of the Magi reminds of us three things:

First, that God is present in the world. That’s what Christmas is all about. More than in creation, although God's handiwork is seen there, God came into the world in Jesus. He is Emmanuel – God with us. Like the Magi, we need to look, to be aware, to listen to the signs of his presence.

Second, that each of us has a gift to bring to Bethlehem. The magi gave gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. But we too have a gift to bring Jesus, each and every one of us. We are a gathering of God’s gifted people. The gift God gives to each of us is the gift we in turn bring to Bethlehem, to be shared with him and with each other.

And thirdly, that if we follow the light in our lives, all of our journeys will lead to Jesus. Our lives are a journey with many turns in the road. Many times we feel as though we’re going in the wrong direction, or we find ourselves going through the painful process of deciding which way to go. But if we seek God’s presence in our lives and in his Will for our lives, then all our journeys will lead us to Jesus.

But there’s a fourth lesson in the story of the Magi . . . perhaps not as evident . . . perhaps ignored because of its implications. And perhaps that lesson is best learned by telling you another story – the story of Michael. No, not Michael the Archangel, but Michael the Littlest Angel.

Michael is “four years, six months, five day, seven hours, and forty-two minutes of age” when he presents himself to the Venerable Gatekeeper for admittance into the Glorious Kingdom of Heaven. But Michael feels out of place in heaven. He’s more accustomed to simply being a boy than being an angel, and because of this, heaven is never quite the same because of the mischief and antics of the Littlest Angel—his ear-splitting whistling is heard at all hours, he sings off-key in the heavenly choir, and his halo is just so tarnished and keeps falling off and rolling down the golden streets. And to top it off, he’s always biting his wingtips! Eventually, his mischief lands him in trouble and he has to report to an Angel of the Peace.

Expecting to be disciplined, he trudges off to his fate, but when he comes to the home of the Angel of the Peace, he finds a kindly elderly angel known as the Understanding Angel. Eventually, the Understanding Angel discovers that the Littlest Angel is just homesick for his mother and father back on Earth. He takes Michael under his wing—literally, and asks what might help him feel less homesick. The little angel tells the older angel that hidden under his bed back on earth is a box that contains all his earthly treasures: a butterfly with golden wings, a little piece of a hollow log, two shiny stones from a river bank, and the worn out strap of his faithful dog. If he could just have that box, he would feel so much better. So, the older angel allows Michael to return to earth to retrieve the box and bring it to heaven. Well, it just so happens that at about that time, heaven is all abuzz because they are preparing for the birth of the Christ Child on Earth, and all the angels are preparing magnificent gifts for the Holy Child. After much agonizing, the Littlest Angel decides to give the baby Jesus his box of treasures.

He places the box on the pile of gifts, but when he sees how magnificent all the other gifts are, he begins to cry, thinking his gift is unworthy. Running to the pile of gifts, he tries to reach the little treasure box before it’s seen by God. But before he can, God reaches down and picks it up. The Littlest Angel hides his head in shame and begins to sob. Trying to run, he trips and falls at the very foot of the heavenly throne. God opens the box, looks at its contents, smiles, closes the box, and speaks: “My children, you please me. Never have the heavens seen such splendor. Your gifts will delight my Son. You have done well. There is one gift though, that stands alone and apart from all the others. Though he would seek to hide it from me, he cannot. It is the gift of our Littlest Angel. Its contents, so dear to this tiny soul, are the miracles of earth and men. And my Son is to be born King of both. These things He too will know and love and cherish . . . and regretfully leave behind when His task on earth is done. This box shall rise and span the heavens until it comes to rest and shines its light over a stable in Bethlehem, where this night Jesus is to be born of Mary. And it is to be hoped that the light from this star will be reflected forever in the hearts of mankind; mankind, whose earthly eyes, blinded by its splendor, will never know that the gift of the Littlest Angel is what they will call the shining Star of Bethlehem.”

Like Michael’s box, which really represents Michael himself, we are called to be stars – stars to others, stars for others - guiding, helping, giving signs, warning and shining light to people in their journey to Christ. We are each other’s stars, shining God’s glory on each other. We are each other’s compass, guidance, strength, joy and hope. We shine the light of Jesus Christ who came two thousand years ago and is still shinning so forcefully.

We can be stars through our words: kind, consoling, and encouraging; words that shed light and love, words that have power and influence.

We can be stars through our actions . . . sometimes reaching out, sometimes giving, sometimes praying, sometimes just being there . . . always living a lifestyle that draws people to Jesus Christ.

We can be stars through our witness: We must stand up for Christ and gospel values. It’s important that our words and actions square up with what we believe. But sometimes we must go beyond just our example to tell others specifically about what God or Jesus mean to us, sharing our faith, expressing the truth and the joy we have in being Christians, sharing the word of God to them.

As we begin a new year, the very first gospel we hear challenges us to be a star, a star which provides a light that illumines others’ minds, warms their hearts, pierces their souls; a star that offers a direction – a direction that leads to Jesus; a star that lights the path others travel each day as they search for meaning in their lives; a star that offers a light out of loneliness and destructive patterns, toward new life.

We are called to be a star that guides others to the stable and illumines the face of the Child who still offers hope to the world.

We are called to be a star that guides others to the towns and cities of Galilee and Judea to hear the words of the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life shining brilliantly in us.

We are called to be a star that leads others to the cross to experience a love and a mercy so strong that it has forever destroyed sin and death and has replaced it with reconciliation, redemption and life.

And we are called to be a star that beckons our families, our friends, our neighbors, our co-workers, and perhaps even total strangers, forward - like the Wise Men in today’s gospel - to go a different way than the well-trod path of the world that leads to selfishness, self-centeredness, and self-indulgence; in a new direction of selflessness, compassion, mercy, humility, love and service.

In his book, The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote, “All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems.”

Which kind do you want to be?